


Connections

by jaydenmaeda



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Falling In Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26100847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaydenmaeda/pseuds/jaydenmaeda
Summary: Despair-ridden at the deaths of their peers, the remaining students on the island are affronted by yet another challenge: an additional simulation, instigated by Monokuma. Throughout the duration of his time in the death-game, Nagito Komaeda finds himself pining hopelessly after another student, and, discouraged at the thought of their previous interactions, he has no intention of admitting his feelings. But everything eventually comes to an end- including Komaeda's silence.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito, komahina
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	Connections

Anthropology - the scientific field which diminishes all doubt in the origin of social and cultural customs: the study of human beings in their entirety. One which, despite the religious outcry and external pseudoscientific retorts, still exists as a rich tapestry of knowledge - a lens into the rancid behaviour, culture and societies that have pervaded human history.

For the past few days, Komaeda found himself lamenting the possibility of a medical examination, one that would provide clarity as to how ‘human’ an individual truly was. He wondered what kind of score he would walk out with, and if it would allude to the discomfort he felt in the flesh that burdened his body. Truthfully, he hadn’t felt ‘human’ for a while. He hadn’t felt anything.

It was likely that his profoundly fucked up mental state was a direct result of witnessing the deaths, first-hand, of four different people. Byakuya, Teruteru, Mahiru, Peko- they had been pulverised like mites, their lowly bodies encapsulated with blushing spurts of their bodily fluids. Despite being responsible for two deaths and the onset of a domino effect, Komaeda felt as though he deserved to be upset.

It wasn’t as though he cared about them, not in an interpersonal sense, at least. His anguish emerged at the prospect of objects- both inanimate and animate- phasing in and out of existence. Although the biological material of their bodies remained scattered throughout every living thing on earth, they had existed as four material objects in Komaeda’s little world.

With thoughts copulating in the moist folds of his psyche, Komaeda fretted the edges of a tomato slice. Crisp and saturated, the fruit flesh moulded against his own, staining his petite fingertips with pervasive fluids. He didn’t flinch when it dribbled hastily over his wrist, only to moisten the length of his arm. He likened the teasing sensation to that of a strippers cock caressing a pole. Up, down, and all around, testicular sweat and precum dampening the silver canopies.

Whimpering, Komaeda’s skull rattled with longing for a bulging mass of hot, stuffy dick, erect and stiff against clammy non-human surfaces. Out of all the men- no, boys, who accompanied him on this island, he knew who had the biggest cock. He knew the moment he saw Hinata. Admittedly, there wasn’t a lot of competition, and his homosexuality was not exactly a biological advantage on an island full of ugly freaks.

Sure, they were all ultimates; superior to him in every conceivable measure, but Hinata was objectively the most attractive specimen available. Anxious to have his feelings known, Komaeda had subconsciously decided to appear repulsive in his presence, although most of their interactions had resulted in even more resentment on Hinata’s end.

For some fucked up reason, this made Komaeda want him even more. When Hinata looked at him, his eyes lidded with plumes of moss and jade, he could feel the despair resounding in his ribcage. Truthfully, this enigmatic boy knew he was scum. His talent was nothing to be proud of, and he had accomplished nothing in his pitiful life, as opposed to the confident ultimates that surrounded him.

The mystery enshrouding Hinata’s own talent was a goldmine for optimism- a much-needed psychological respite in Komaeda’s case. Somewhere, deep down in the cadaver of his psyche, he knew his talent already: Ultimate Hugest Cock And Balls. It didn’t matter if he was ‘wrong.’ Language was arbitrary, much like any other man-made concept.

Similarly, the intrinsic value of the Japanese currency wasn’t really intrinsic at all, but rather a tool designed to redistribute inanimate objects and livestock. In his elevated dreams of bulging stripper cocks, Komaeda made an effort to tip generously- though it did pain him to partake in a collectively fraudulent hivemind.

This was, unfortunately, a daily occurrence. He lay motionless on his bed most of the time, gingerly sliding a hand across the epidermis of his thorax and abdomen, and halting shyly at his groin. If his autonomic nervous system could speak, it would surely call him a dumb bitch. For hours he utilised the sympathetic stimulation that ignited contraction of the smooth muscle in his ductus deferens, prostate and seminal vesicles, allowing him to ejaculate into his trembling hand.

Stilled mid-wank, Komaeda startled at the tune of Monokuma’s usual announcement:

______________________

_“Buenos Dias, little vermin. It has come to my attention that many of you have endured eminent distress during your time here on the island. Amidst the pathetic wailing and despondency we have accumulated on this journey, it would appear that many of you have forgotten your placement in this real-world as a member of the Homo Sapien species.”_

_“As an act of kindness, Monomi suggested that we allow you several hours of simulation in which you would return home. But, as you all know, I’m a misogynist, so that isn’t going to happen. Rather than investing my time in providing an honest, detailed replica of your ‘normal’ living arrangements, you will be thrust into the burgeoning reality of molecular biology, in the hopes that your shit-ridden brains will recognise you’re still human, even when you’re treated like livestock.”_

_“...Oh, and your designated placements have been finalised. The simulation will run from 10 am to 5 pm daily. That’s all.”_

____________________

For the first time in a while, Komaeda felt inspired. Finally, he thought, a revolution in the predictable slew of events that his life had become. Each morning the sun kissed his eyelids in the same way- and, though the moon was cyclic, he found himself less inclined to bask in the heaving flanks of the night sky. His body remembered everything. Everything except for a pathway to self-actualisation.

Monokuma’s slutty voice reverberated in his ears. A new simulation, one that would reinforce his personhood and sense of belonging in the universe. Had he manifested this?

Grunting, he pulled himself out of bed, shivering at the lick of forenoon air on his skin. Monokuma was kind enough to provide the basic necessities- towels, warm water and dental and hygiene products. It was nice, but the toilet paper was seldom soft enough to leave his asshole without a superficial wound or rash.

Komaeda adhered to his typical routine. Plaque obliterated. Hydrophobic face-grease removed with hand soap. Ear smegma destroyed. As of late, he noticed that his frequent attempts at self-care and hygiene rarely reaped any meaningful long-term results. Sure, he didn’t reek, which increased the probability of successful social interactions, but it wasn’t as though anyone wanted to spend time with him in the first place.

Nobody understood him, and they probably never would. Isolated from the cherubic love shared between friends and family, secluded in his own personal hellscape- forced to find a supplement from which he could obtain warmth and pleasure. He knew, obviously, that he sought solace in the misfortune of others.

Sighing, he trudged onwards to the outside world. Tense voices flitted through the windows of the dining hall. As his gaze swept the room, panic-stricken faces glittered back. Despair had permeated the air around them.

“A simulation?! What the fuck is that?” Kazuichi whined, tears bulging on the creases of his eyes. He spared a despondent glance in Komaeda’s direction, seemingly put-off by his presence.

He sighed. “Well, I imagine it’s going to be pretty ass-stenchingly terrible. There’s no doubt in my mind that this is another ploy to make us kill one another.”

Fuyuhiko glared at him with unguided contempt. “Uh… But why? The last trial was only yesterday!” He barked, brows furrowed.

Smirking, Komaeda wondered how sheltered their lives must have been, considering that they appeared to lack basic critical thinking skills. “OK. Let’s say it isn’t designed to inspire bloodlust. The only other plausible reason thing I can think of… Is that the simulation is designed for us to bond more- you know, build more emotional attachments to one another.”

“Why would Monokuma do that, cracker?!” Hiyoko squeaked, her hands trembling beneath the tangerine sleeves of her kimono.

“Because the despair cultivated from another death would exceed that of any previous trials. That’s what we’re here for, right? To satisfy Monokuma’s sexual urges.”


End file.
